


Something in the Air

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, I mean no one sees them but it's by a window so, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, Semi-Public Sex, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: “There’s something about the air in America that makes all the Johnny stans want to suck his dick.”Jaehyun reads this out loud, his laugh choked out as Johnny’s jaw drops, staring at Jaehyun, who is scrolling through his feed on his secret twitter account, checking out the reactions of the fans from their back to back performances on Good Morning America and Stephan and Sara. Taeyong catches most of the sentence and gets the gist of it despite it being in English, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.





	Something in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN: YES, I AM ON HIATUS.
> 
> But also I've had this in my drafts for months and I had a very long morning and ended up writing 2k worth of Johnyong smut on my break so. There's that. No one is allowed to judge me for this. kjfsdnkjfnjkn
> 
> EDIT: I KNOW YOU CAN'T USE SPIT AS LUBE, OKAY, IT WAS JUST THIS ONE TIME. JUST LET ME HAVE MY SPIT KINK FIC PLEASE. hahaha I swear I use lube in all my other fics, I promise you. 💖❤️
> 
> ADDITIONAL NOTE FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD DOCTOR: DO NOT USE SPIT OR LOTION AS LUBE IN REAL LIFE, ESPECIALLY NOT FOR ANAL SEX. Please always use water-based lubricants! And always, always, always wear condoms to protect yourself and your partner! I will link you to a PPT on HIV and protecting yourself right [here.](https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1snfbjP2v5Wmt4uwEaLNwMf_GQNxzEcw6xcZ1m-yJB6Q/edit?usp=sharing)

“There’s something about the air in America that makes all the Johnny stans want to suck his dick.”

Jaehyun reads this out loud, his laugh choked out as Johnny’s jaw drops, staring at Jaehyun, who is scrolling through his feed on his secret twitter account, checking out the reactions of the fans from their back to back performances on Good Morning America and Stephan and Sara. Taeyong catches most of the sentence and gets the gist of it despite it being in English, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. 

“It does not say that,” Johnny says, pulling his own phone out. There’s a pause where he goes through their mentions on the official account, before switching to his own tiny private one. Jaehyun waits. 

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Johnny exclaims. 

“Your fans are thirsty, man,” Jaehyun replies, before stretching out and standing up. 

“I’m gonna head to sleep now. We did good today, guys,” Jaehyun says softly, walking over to where Johnny is seated at the foot of the bed, slinging an arm around Johnny’s shoulders to bring him in for a hug before pulling away. 

Taeyong is by the window, the couch covered with clothing that had been haphazardly strewn about, and Jaehyun walks over to him too, arms out, waiting for Taeyong to step into his embrace, which Taeyong does, gratefully. He feels the tension from the day seep out of his body, more so when Jaehyun whispers, “You’re the best leader we could have ever asked for, Taeyong-hyung,” before releasing him. 

Jaehyun exits the room to make his way back to where he’s sharing the room with Donghyuck and Doyoung, leaving Johnny and Taeyong alone, finally, for the first time since they landed in the US. 

Taeyong is tired, bone-tired, but he’s also missed his boyfriend terribly despite having been by his side the whole day. He decides to leave the clothing for the next day, a testament to how much he has been itching to get Johnny to himself since the whirlwind of the last 48 hours— hell, the last month, has been. 

Taeyong moves to stand in front of Johnny, who glances up at him, and locks his phone to set it down next to him. 

“Hello, stranger,” Johnny smiles, his black jean-clad legs spreading to accommodate the shorter man stepping between them, Johnny’s arms coming up to wrap around Taeyong’s torso while the leader’s arms come around Johnny’s neck, Taeyong’s fingers raking through the stiff hair and tousling it up further. 

Taeyong exhales, holding Johnny close to him, Johnny’s ear pressing against his rib cage, no doubt able to hear his steady heartbeat loud and clear. 

“It’s been non-stop, huh,” Taeyong says, switching back to Korean after an entire day of trying to follow a language he’s still trying to get his mouth used to. 

Speaking of—

Taeyong looks down at the crown of Johnny’s hair, fingers slipping through the dark locks. Johnny is looking up at him expectantly.

Taeyong knows exactly where this is headed when he starts to feel himself harden in his too-tight jeans, and he knows that Johnny can feel it, too. 

Taeyong knew the day SM had told him that they were making him leader of the group that it would be, for lack of a better word, a whirlwind for them, and it has, it really has. They’ve been working non-stop since the Regular-Irregular promotional run, it feels like. 

He just didn’t expect how difficult life on the road would be— physically, emotionally. And that included trying to get off with his boyfriend. 

Contrary to Doyoung teasing them and Ten’s cheeky little messages, he and Johnny don’t actually get to fuck that often, even with them being roommates in the dorms. Being responsible adults is hard. 

And right now, so is Taeyong, and Johnny knows. 

Johnny is hard, too. 

Taeyong leans in to press his lips to Johnny’s forehead, a tender thing, but then Johnny pulls back, catches Taeyong’s lips with his own, and swallows down the groan that leaves Taeyong when he licks into Taeyong’s mouth. 

It’s like a switch is flipped, and Taeyong is keening into the kiss, leaning down until his knees buckle and land softly on the carpeted floor. His heart is racing. He’s so aroused just from kissing his boyfriend, he has no idea if he’s even going to make it to the main event before coming in his pants. 

And Johnny kisses like a starving man, devours Taeyong, cups his jaw tenderly in his soft hands as Taeyong changes the angle, his back ramrod straight, and brings himself closer to the bed until his abdomen is flush against Johnny’s hardness. Johnny’s right hand strokes over Taeyong’s back, a soothing gesture, enough pressure in his fingers on his way up to make Taeyong sigh when Johnny presses into a knot of muscle near his right shoulder. 

Taeyong pulls away, gasps against Johnny’s jaw, his hands tight in Johnny’s hair. 

“Your fans are right,” Taeyong jokes in a soft voice. “I’ve wanted to suck you off since we landed.” 

Johnny laughs under his breath, trying to chase his inhales as Taeyong makes quick work of Johnny’s belt buckle. The zipper is straining under the press of his hardness, and halfway through Taeyong’s attempt to bring it down, Johnny takes over, leans back and readjusts his cock in his pants to give it some way. 

The first time Taeyong had ever tasted Johnny’s cock was a year and a half ago, when he had caught Johnny jerking off in his bunk, and he had tentatively said, “I— I can help you with that.” 

Back when neither Johnny nor Taeyong had fessed up yet that the dance they’d been doing around each other for years at that point was really a heady mixture of unresolved sexual tension and being, well, head-over-heels in love with each other. 

Johnny had been so stunned at the offer, hand paused over his dick, the tent in the blankets leaving nothing to the imagination. Taeyong had crawled into bed with Johnny, had looked him in the eye. 

“Do you want me to?” Taeyong had asked Johnny, like this wasn’t an earth-shattering moment. 

“Do you want to?” Johnny had replied, breathless. 

“Yes, so badly,” Taeyong had said. 

And that had been that. 

No other preamble, no earth-shattering kiss, just Taeyong kneeling in between Johnny’s spread-eagle legs and taking the tip of Johnny’s cock into his mouth without breaking eye contact with Johnny for the solid 20 minutes that Johnny had been able to hold out from coming.

(Yuta had laughed for half an hour the next day when Taeyong had told Yuta that he had finally “confessed” to Johnny that he was in love with him, and Yuta had huffed out an “I cannot believe that your idea of telling the love of your life that you’re in love with him was via blowjob.”)

(Doyoung had been red in the face from trying to contain his own laughter after Johnny had asked him if he should have told Taeyong then how he felt. “Sure,” Doyoung said. “That would have been a good conversation to have before he put his mouth on your dick, don’t you think?”) 

There are many things in this life that Taeyong loves to do: he loves cooking; he loves sitting down to write music; he loves dancing, loves how alive it makes him feel when he knows he has full control over his own body. 

He also really, really loves sucking Johnny’s dick. 

It’s cliche when he thinks about it, and by _it_ he means the very act of sucking Johnny’s dick, because when he does, his mouth waters. 

Johnny’s dick is perfect— long, thick, always trimmed because Johnny likes it that way, and knows that Taeyong does, too. Taeyong can never fit the whole thing in his mouth; he’ll usually get to about half of the way before the tip of Johnny’s cock is hitting the back of his throat and making him gag and tear up. That’s where his hands come in. 

Taeyong loves the sounds Johnny makes too, when he’s sucking him off. 

Right now, Johnny is leaning back with his right hand behind him on the bed, using it to balance himself as he raises his hips while Taeyong drags his tight, tight jeans and boxer briefs down. 

Taeyong kneels, almost in reverence, because Johnny’s beautiful cock is waiting for him, flushed red, rock-hard, bobbing against his taut abdomen, with the tip leaking pre-cum, glistening like the tastiest lollipop Taeyong’s ever had the chance to behold. 

Taeyong takes Johnny’s cock by the base, wrapping his warm hand around it, and Johnny exhales, eyes fixed on Taeyong’s, tracking his movements like a predator while Taeyong sticks his pink tongue out and licks. 

He starts at the base, just where his fingers are, and licks a strip up to the tip, slow, agonising, and exactly how Johnny likes it. 

“Fuck,” Johnny says, his teeth pressing into his lower lip while he watches Taeyong. “Fuck, yeah, that’s it, Yongie.” 

Taeyong loves the control he has over Johnny when he’s got him like this. 

“Do you want me to suck you hard, Youngho?” Taeyong asks, tongue darting out to catch the pre-cum that erupts from the tip, a string of saliva visible in the yellow light. Johnny licks his lips. “Or do you want to fuck my mouth?” 

That makes a storm erupt in Johnny’s chest, makes him want to claw at himself and at Taeyong from the inside, makes him want to do nothing but be engulfed in Taeyong’s tight heat, however his boyfriend, his  _ leader _ wants him. 

“What do  _ you _ want, Yongie?” Johnny chokes out instead, voice wavering when Taeyong spits on his dick and uses his hand to stroke up and down, his legs shaking from trying to keep themselves spread. 

Taeyong pulls back, thoughtful, hand still moving, his spit making his ministrations slick and mind-blowing. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Youngho,” Taeyong says, smiling up at Johnny, hands kneading into the meat of Johnny’s inner thighs. “I want you to grab me by the hair and fuck my mouth until I’m crying and you’re coming on my tongue and down my throat. Do you think you can do that?” 

Johnny swallows, and nods. 

“Three taps to my leg if it gets too much, okay, baby?” Johnny says. He reaches over and grabs two pillows for Taeyong to kneel on, and Taeyong adjusts himself while Johnny continues carding his fingers through Taeyong’s blue-tinged hair as he gets up off the bed. His pants are pooled around his ankles. Taeyong smiles back, and then he’s got his mouth back on Johnny, and Johnny’s fingers tighten their grip.

It is incredible. It is always incredible when Johnny does this, Taeyong thinks, working on keeping his breathing in check as his cheeks hollow out when he sucks hard and has Johnny moaning “Fuck, Taeyong.” 

See, usually, Taeyong takes the lead in things, because Johnny always likes making sure that he’s comfortable above all else. And Taeyong likes taking the lead, likes telling Johnny to prep him, likes it when Johnny eats him out like there’s no tomorrow and he loves it when Johnny lets him bounce on his dick while he tells Johnny to stay still, or stay quiet. 

Johnny is so very good at doing the things Taeyong wants him to do. And sometimes, that includes telling Johnny to take control, because more than enjoying it when Johnny does what he says, Taeyong relishes more in knowing that Johnny is enjoying himself, too. 

And when Taeyong tells him to fuck his mouth, Johnny makes sure to let Taeyong know  _ just _ how much he’s enjoying himself. 

Taeyong is starting to gag, even though he’s telling himself to relax his throat, because fuck, Johnny’s perfect cock is also a little too big for his mouth, and Taeyong can feel tears forming at his eyes but he doesn’t care, because Johnny’s pulling on his hair and he’s got a rhythm now that Taeyong is trying to match as he palms himself through his jeans. 

“Don’t,” Johnny says, slowing his hips, his breath heavy. “Don’t touch yourself. I want to make you come.” 

This makes Taeyong whine, which in turn makes Johnny double over and catch himself with his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. 

“ _Fuuuuck_ ,” Johnny hisses through gritted teeth, his knees clearly doing their very best to not buckle beneath him. “Fuck, that feels so good, Yongie.” 

So Taeyong moans around him again before pulling back and working the tip of his tongue on the slit of Johnny’s dick, the fat head swelling impossibly in his mouth. 

Taeyong makes his jaw slack, sticks his tongue out, looks up at his boyfriend who is towering over him, his expression blissed out, Johnny unable to take his eyes off of Taeyong’s beautiful face, his red, red lips. 

Johnny slips himself back into Taeyong’s mouth, hand on his jaw, and moves, thrusts back in and out, taking care not to push in too far. 

Taeyong catches him off guard by pulling him into his mouth deeper, grabbing Johnny by his hips, by his ass and forcing him to fuck into Taeyong’s mouth further than he had intended, and Taeyong gags, pulls away, tears in his eyes now leaving tracks down his cheeks, and Johnny looks panicked, like he’s about to pull away, but then Taeyong is stroking him, his fingers a tight, wet ring in a vice grip around Johnny’s erection, his tongue out, catching the tip of Johnny’s dick as he jacks him off, and Johnny— 

Johnny sees black; there’s a ringing in Johnny’s ears as he comes hard on Taeyong tongue, and then he’s fully in Taeyong’s mouth again as his boyfriend swallows, swallows down his hot release with practised ease, like he’s been hungry for it, and the way Taeyong is moaning, the way he’s sucking down hard, it seems clear that he has been. 

Taeyong keeps lapping at Johnny’s cock even as his boyfriend starts to jerk away from how sensitive he is, Johnny coming down from his orgasm. He pulls Taeyong up by his hair gently, and Taeyong follows, stands up on his tiptoes to catch Johnny in a kiss which is wet and filthy and everything they’ve missed about each other. 

Johnny steps out of his pants, undoes the buttons of his shirt as Taeyong licks into his mouth, and makes quick work of divesting his boyfriend of his own clothes as well. 

As they kiss, Johnny walks Taeyong back toward the window where the curtains are drawn, and gently pulls away, both of them panting to catch their breath. 

“That was fantastic, Yongie,” Johnny says, and brings Taeyong in close. Taeyong’s skin is cool from the air conditioning, but turns burning hot as Johnny’s hands make their way down his back, down to his ass that he takes and uses to bring Taeyong’s erection flush against his softened cock. 

Johnny kisses him softly, and then turns to the curtains to pull them back. 

All there is is New York City, glittering lights in a sea of black. They’re high up, way high, on the 40th floor. No one can see them. 

Johnny stands behind Taeyong, their reflections looking back at them in the glass window. He’s got his hands on Taeyong’s hips, his chin resting in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. 

He brings a hand up to Taeyong’s mouth, and says, “Spit.” 

And Taeyong does, spits into Johnny’s palm before bringing his hand down to stroke at Taeyong’s hardness, and Taeyong throws his head back against Johnny’s chest. 

It’s the thrill of maybe getting caught that rushes through the both of them now as Johnny presses kisses into Taeyong’s neck and uses his thumb to swing back and forth over the head of Taeyong’s cock. He pulls his hand back and spits into it, too, and Taeyong sighs as Johnny strokes back up and down, before giving the base of Taeyong’s thick hardness a squeeze. 

Taeyong can’t take his eyes off of their reflections, and Johnny watches him through the glass, whispers, “You’re so beautiful,” and “look at you,” before sliding his tongue over the skin and the silver pieces that dangle from Taeyong’s ear. 

“In the morning,” Johnny says, baritone rough in Taeyong’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you against this window, too,” and the thought of it makes Taeyong groan, makes him say, “yes, fuck, yes please,” while his hips stutter in time with Johnny’s stroking. 

Johnny brings his other hand to Taeyong’s throat gently while he continues to stroke Taeyong’s cock slowly, but doesn’t apply any pressure. They have schedules tomorrow, and it’s bad enough that Taeyong had asked him to wreck his throat once already tonight. 

“Faster, Youngho, I need to come,” Taeyong begs, his hips moving to try to get Johnny to speed up. 

“You want to come already, baby?” Johnny asks, his voice heavy with arousal even if his body hasn’t caught up yet. “So soon?” 

“Please, Johnny,” Taeyong says, frowning, his voice turning into a whine. He’s so, so close, but not quite there, not with Johnny taking his sweet fucking time. God, it drives him crazy when he gives control over to Johnny because Johnny always likes to draw things out, loves to edge him. 

“But you’re so good like this,” Johnny says, but he speeds up his movements and Taeyong is thrashing against him, the sound in the room just slick skin on skin, Taeyong moaning, “I’m so close, I’m so close,” and then— 

“Ugh, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Taeyong says, going slack against Johnny, who had let go of his hardness. Taeyong’s cock moves, bobs up and down from an aborted orgasm, his hips thrusting against air. Johnny hasn’t edged him like this in months, and pre-cum slips from the tip of Taeyong’s cock down the length of it and to the carpeted ground as Johnny holds Taeyong upright against his chest. 

“Please, please let me come,” Taeyong whines, and that’s something that he hasn’t had to do in months, either: beg Johnny. “Please Johnny, I want to come.” 

Taeyong is still thrusting against Johnny, his ass rubbing against Johnny’s cock that is starting to harden again slowly. 

“Baby, if you give me a little more time, I can fuck you until you can’t come anymore,” Johnny says softly, and Taeyong is so torn, because as much as he wants that, he’s also so on edge that one more stroke from Johnny’s hand could probably rip him over. 

“But I don’t think you can wait, can you?” Johnny says, gently pushing Taeyong closer to the glass, and bending him over at the hip. 

Johnny slips two fingers into Taeyong’s mouth and Taeyong sucks on them without any hesitation, coating the digits with saliva while Johnny kneads at his ass. He pulls them out, and gently circles the rim of Taeyong’s entrance, and presses one finger in slowly. 

Taeyong gasps out, legs spreading wider to accommodate Johnny’s digit, and it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, because Johnny finds his prostate almost immediately, and Taeyong knows he’s done for. 

Johnny hasn’t milked him in months— they haven’t had the time apart from quick handjobs lately, but fuck if Taeyong doesn’t love this. 

Every follicle and nerve ending in Taeyong’s body comes alive as Johnny presses the pad of his finger against his prostate, electricity and pleasure beyond anything else, and Taeyong is floating, he’s on the verge of collapse as Johnny presses into him with one finger and takes his neglected cock in his other hand. 

Johnny gathers the spit in his mouth, lets it drop down along the crack of Taeyong’s ass and watches it slide toward his hole where Johnny slowly penetrates him with another finger, and when he curls his fingers just so, Taeyong screams, “yes, fuck, right there,” and he’s fucking into Johnny’s fist and pressing up against the fingers Johnny has in his ass and it’s glorious. 

Taeyong is going wild, bracing himself against the glass with one hand while he brings his other hand to his nipple where he tweaks it, presses it between his thumb and forefinger hard as Johnny continues to fuck into him with his fingers, as Johnny mutters filth about how hot Taeyong makes him, how pretty his hole is, how good he looks, how no one on earth compares to him, and Taeyong can’t take it, rears back and fucks himself against Johnny’s fingers, against Johnny’s hand, and he’s coming, streaks of white shooting to paint the glass he’s practically pressed against, cum spilling over Johnny’s hand. 

Johnny stills as Taeyong’s breathing starts to even out. 

He pulls his fingers out, and holds Taeyong close. Taeyong has both his hands on the glass before he allows himself to fall back against Johnny. They’re both panting, before a small laugh turns into a bigger one, and they’re both doubled over in each other’s arms, and staring at the mess they’ve made on the window. 

“We’re gonna have to clean that up before it dries,” Johnny quips, and Taeyong steps on his foot with his heel. 

“I know, God, who do you take me for?” Taeyong laughs, turning in Johnny’s arms to press a kiss to the underside of his boyfriend’s jaw. 

“Sorry, sorry, no need to get huffy,” Johnny says lightly, catching Taeyong by the waist and smacking his ass. 

“Are you gonna be pulling that shit onstage again?” Taeyong asks as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

“Maybe,” Johnny shouts back as he walks to the bed, grabbing his phone again. “The fans lost their shit at the last concert, so.” 

Taeyong’s laugh filters through the room as he steps back out with two wet towels, handing one to his boyfriend. 

“You’re right, can’t let the fans down,” he says, kneeling down to wipe at the window. 

Johnny flops backward onto the bed, and thinks about how much more rested he feels now, a testament to the sort of peace that he only gets when he’s around Taeyong, with or without orgasms. The day could have gone better, he thinks. But they debuted ‘Superhuman’ today, and after ages, he’s finally got some time with his boyfriend. 

Sure, there might be something about the air in America that makes him puff out his chest more, a sort of freedom that is only afforded him when he steps back on the soil he grew up in. He relishes in it, loves the interviews they get to do, loves the prospect of performing in the country that raised him, loves being the middleman between the fans here and his members. He’s in his element. 

Taeyong climbs into bed with him, settles himself against Johnny’s side, resting his elbow on Johnny’s chest and making Johnny go “oof”. 

“Welcome home,” Taeyong says, his syllables drawn out slowly, the English phrase no longer as foreign in his mouth as they used to be. 

Johnny smiles and closes his eyes. Welcome home, indeed.


End file.
